Pier 66

One cold April morning this year, I wandered onto the Lackawanna railcar barge at Pier 66.

Someone was rustbusting a tall anchoring post, another was cutting through metal pipes, sparks flying everywhere. The noise was deafening. I asked if I could make some sketches, and John Krevey smiled and handed me a pair of ear muffs.
I have always been made to feel so welcome there, and I returned day after day for weeks, seeing the pontoon transform into what is going to be a wonderful cafe on the river.

Everyday, there would be progress. Firehoses, engines, propellers that I sketched one day would be neatly moved somewhere else the next day. Victoria, the chef, looked more like a shipbuilder, wielding a needlegun on one giant iron column. She said could not wait until she could start cooking and grilling lobsters and burgers.

A great crew works there, and like most who work on the water, they know how to tell some good tales.

The early morning light shone through the milk crates and cast a beautiful lattice shadow over the floor and the base of this–uh, shower fountain. I was about to attempt to capture it when Irwin came by and whisked the milk crates away.